


Cappucchino Readings - A "Good Omens" Univeristy AU

by Jelly_Jenkins



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anathema also works at the library, Anathema is an English major, Anxiety, Aziraphale and Crowley are both openly gay, Aziraphale is a philosophy major, Aziraphale works at the campus library, Catholic Guilt, Catholicism, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Confessions, Crowley is a barista at a fancy cafe across the street, Crowley is a graphic design major, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Drinking, F/M, Flash Forward, Flashbacks, Fluff, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Newton also works at the cafe, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, References to Depression, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, They're both humans, You can imagine them any age you'd like, awkward crushes, use of homophobic slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22073029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jelly_Jenkins/pseuds/Jelly_Jenkins
Summary: When Aziraphale took the job at the campus library, he didn't think anything of it. Of course he was excited to make some extra money and such, but he never expected to get out so much more.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Anathema Device, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Newton Pulsifer
Comments: 14
Kudos: 68





	1. Who's He?

**Author's Note:**

> Just some notes about the general setting and references:  
> -I based the university it off of the Harcourt Hill campus and the Headington campus parts of Oxford Brookes University in South East England.   
> -The cafe Crowley works at is based on 2% Jazz Coffee in Victoria, BC.

The tiny bell at the top of the door frame jingled as Aziraphale pushed open the door to begin his shift. That Sunday, Anathema had been there for an hour already, as she was in charge of opening that day, and had no church to attend to. Aziraphale waltzed in, personal bible tucked under his arm and his messenger bag dangling from the opposite hand. Yes, Aziraphale was a man of God, but that didn't change much. He had special permission to show up an hour late to work, and in church clothes. Although, you could say Aziraphale was always in church clothes, as he dressed like he lived in the 1900s.

"Morning, 'Zira." Anathema called from the counter. She was busy scanning in books that had been returned overnight.

As Aziraphale hung up his coat, he replied with a sweet smile, "Good morning, dear! How's the shift been so far?"

"It's been... slow, but y'know, knock on wood." She tapped the dark-colored wood counter a few times with her knuckles.

Aziraphale approached the counter, set down his bag and bible, and placed a hand on the metal cart that wheeled around books. "Ah, yes. Do you want help putting these away?"

"That'd be nice, thank you." Anathema responded.

Aziraphale gently wheeled the cart to the columns and rows of bookshelves. He began placing them on the shelf, in perfect alphabetical order. While placing one particular book upon the shelf, he knocked his thin-rim glasses on the floor. "Oh dear.." he muttered to himself, and bent over to pick them up. Once he rose and replaced his spectacles, he looked out the window and across the street, into the coffee shop. There, he saw a red headed man, wearing all black and pouring a silver tin of steamed milk into a cup. Although Aziraphale had a hard time seeing far, even with prescriptions, he found his eyes tracing the profile of this mystery man's face.

"Uhh, Aziraphale, what're you looking at?" Anathema had called to him from the other end of the row.

"Oh, um, sorry I was just.. admiring the birds."

"Uh-huh.." She said so suspiciously. The blonde man returned to putting up books, blushing and smiling to himself.

The day was indeed slow, yet a beautiful day. Anathema and Aziraphale enjoyed their jobs very much. They also enjoyed each other's company, as friends. They shared interest in reading, teas, coffees, cocoas, musical theatre, and fine eating. They both enjoyed pointing out cute boys that passed the large-windowed reading hall, or the cute boys that entered their little library. Often times after their shift was over, they'd hang around in the library for a study session or to read a book together.

The two met in one of their English lectures in their beginning year of college. Anathema and Aziraphale had been paired up for a partner project, which they completed in the first 48 hours of it being assigned. They found themselves to be a dream duo when it came to classwork and projects. They both were workaholics and actually enjoyed their English lecture hall. They realized they shared a lot more classes than they thought.

Soon, their shift had in fact ended, and they decided to head across the street. Of course Aziraphale made that suggestion, as he wanted to see the red head again, but closer.

When they walked in, the admired man appeared to be on break. His tan apron was folded messily and placed lazily across the table. He had made himself an Americano and was slowly sipping it as he scrolled through his phone. He had perched himself upon one of the booth seats with a round wooden table in front of it. The redhead's posture was terrible, but Aziraphale didn't seem to mind. His enamel name tag had caught the UK afternoon sunlight. Aziraphale eyed it as he sat down at the booth seat adjacent to the man's. Stamped in black, the tag had the name "Crowley" on it.

" _Crowley.._ " Aziraphale thought to himself, " _What a rare name. It's pretty, I suppose, but it's also bizarre._ "

"What do you want? I'll pay, my treat." Anathema interrupted 'Zira's thought.

"Oh, a mocha for me. Medium. Thank you, dear."

As Anathema stood, Aziraphale took the opportunity to get out his work and shift his eyes back and fourth between the table and Crowley.

" _He's even more handsome in person.._ " The blonde considered. He didn't want to look like he was staring, so instead he turned his attention to watch Anathema order. He noticed the way she talked to the young man behind the counter. In Aziraphale's mind it seemed she had a thing for the guy. " _You too, Ana'? Good God, what's with this cafe and pretty boys?_ "

Anathema smiled one last time at the boy behind the counter, and thanked him for their drinks.

"The boy at the counter is cute."

"Yes, I saw the way you looked at him."

"I'm calling dibs." She continued as she set down the coffees.

Aziraphale scoffed jokingly and grinned softly, "you're such a child sometimes, Ana'."

"Well, you know, just saying!" She put her hands up defensively, "see anybody here who's your type, though?"

Aziraphale shifted his eyes over to Crowley one last time, very quickly. He took out a pen and wrote "the red haired guy over there is cute as heck." And drew an arrow pointing left.

Anathema gasped slightly and covered her mouth with her left hand dramatically. She leaned in closer and whispered loudly, on purpose, "'Zira, you're into goth boys!"

Aziraphale shushed her furiously, and blushed with the same energy. "Shh, shh, shh I can't have him knowing! God, you're so loud!" He spoke even lower.

"Why nooot!?" She returned to a normal voice.

"Because!"

"God, Aziraphale, you're so introverted."

"It's.. Embarrassing, Anathema!"

Crowley interrupted with a laugh. He hadn't looked up from his phone, but the blonde and raven-colored hair duo both glanced over. They both assumed Crowley was laughing at his phone.

"Do you want help? Asking him out, I mean?"

"What _I_ want is to work on my essay, Ana'."

Anathema sat back in her seat, arms crossed, and jokingly pouting. "Fine. I'm gonna go give that boy my number."

"Oh my God.." He whispered to himself, huffily.

Anathema did just that, she wrote her number down on a napkin, just as Aziraphale did to point out Crowley. She returned quickly to her seat, where she found Aziraphale getting started on his essay.

"You're no fun." Anathema teased.

"Shush."


	2. Pretty-boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley never really cared for the culinary arts, but he found out he had a steady enough hand to make latte art, and there was a little coffee shop on campus that paid well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place on the same day as chapter 1.

Crowley woke at what he’d call an ungodly hour, which in reality was around 5:30 AM. His phone buzzed twice, and as he picked it up he read the text from his manager. Crowley sighed, which turned into a growl. He had to work both the opening and midday shift, with a guy he barely knew, on what was supposed to be his day off. It wasn’t all bad, however, since he’d get paid 1.5% more for both shifts. He slithered out of bed and into his morning routine.

The redhead stepped into the cafe at around 7. He put on his apron, wrapping it around his back and bringing the strings forward again for a smaller and tighter tie. He then began his opening chores, which consisted of taking down the chairs, grinding coffee beans, setting out croissants and eclairs, and setting the radio for the day. Like a ritual, before the shop officially opened, Crowley tuned the radio to whatever station he pleased and poured himself a tall iced latte and sat on the counter to wait for his coworker to show up, or for the clock to strike 8.

“ _ Wait, _ ” Crowley thought, maybe a half an hour after seating himself, “ _ Where is Newton? He should be here by now. _ ”

Crowley slid his phone out of his pocket and typed a quick message:

“ _ Where are you? We’re opening in 20 minutes. _ ”

He sat there and watched the three little dots bounce up and down for what must have been 5 minutes, before they disappeared completely. Crowley then saw a figure push on the door, causing him to call out instinctively, “We’re not open yet.”

“Sorry!” He heard Newton’s voice crack out. Crowley could see the brown-haired fellow fiddle with his keys and unlock the door.

Crowley took a long sip from his latte, then croaked out a “G’morning.”

“Hello, good morning.” Newton quickly replied and tied his own apron. “T-Thank you for opening by the way, a-and sorry for being a bit late.”

“Ohh, it’s not a problem. Just try and get here earlier, for your own sake.” However, it was in fact a bit of a problem and an annoyance for Crowley. He switched the radio to the proper station for an artisan coffee shop and slid himself off the counter.

The first customer came in exactly at opening time. Newton took the gentleman’s order on a pad of paper, which Crowley was going to have to put in later manually since Newton isn’t allowed to touch the till since the last computer fiasco happened. Crowley began making the customer’s order. Making orders was like Crowley’s sanctuary, as he was good enough at making lattes that he could zone out for the most part. That was one of the main reasons Crowley stayed at that job, besides the pay. He had no passion for coffee in particular. Zoning out came with defects, though, as by default Crowley would make a heart shape in the latte, which could be taken wrong. This first customer was a good example of such. When Crowley handed the latte over, the man made extended, uncomfortable eye contact with Crowley, before simply retorting with, “I’m not gay.”

“We do that with all the lattes.”

“...Okay.” The man looked like he wanted further conflict, but received none. Defeatedly, the man went to a seat.

“Okay, now let’s put in his order..” Crowley said to himself as he tapped through the menus on the little till machine.

“Huh?” Newton inquired.

“Oh, just talking to myself.”

“Oh.”

The shop fell silent again, with the exception of Amy Winehouse’s brilliant singing playing over the radio system. 

Newton asked, “Are you working double shifts, too?”

“Um.. yes.”

“Oh. Huh. Guess the midday people got too hungover, huh?” The brown-haired man said.

“Yeah,” Crowley answered with a chuckle, “I don’t blame ‘em.”

Around this time, the sun began to rise. Good weather was on its way, with the pink and lilac easterly clouds signifying that the previous night’s downpour was ending. Soon, brilliant rays of sunshine beamed in between the buildings and birch trees and dawned onto the pavement. The large-windowed cafe soaked in the cheery beams. Despite it being a gorgeous south east UK morning, Crowley was still having none of it. He couldn’t see the beauty in the sun anymore. To others, this would be heartbreaking, but for Crowley this was his everyday norm.

* * *

Crowley's day, however, would see some sort of uptick soon,

When he was taking his second break, a beautiful man walked into the shop with another woman. Crowley's eyes traced the blonde's round face for a brief moment before he turned attention back to his phone to not seem like he was staring. He found himself disregarding his phone and instead eavesdropping on the two’s conversation.

“What do you want? I'll pay, my treat.”

“Oh, a mocha for me. Medium. Thank you, dear.” His voice was so sweet and soft, like a baby cuckoo’s underbelly feathers. Crowley’s heart melted.

When the woman stood, he couldn’t help but feel like the blonde’s eyes were on him. He liked having that particular set of eyes on him, and he didn’t know why.

“ _ He probably thinks I’m a freak. _ ”

He noticed the woman flirting incessantly with Newton. “ _ Hell yeah, _ ” Crowley considered, “ _ Go for it Newton. _ ”

“The boy at the counter is cute.” The black-haired woman stated.

“Yes, I saw the way you looked at him.” Crowley grew worried for a brief moment that the blonde was falling for Newton.

“I'm calling dibs.” The woman continued as she set down their lattes.

“ _ Good for you, Newt’. _ ”

“You're such a child sometimes, Ana'.”

“Well, you know, just saying! See anybody here who's your type, though?”

“ _ Oh God he’s probably not gay, and if he was he probably doesn’t even like guys like me. Nobody likes me, nobody ever has, at least not in the way I need them to- _ ”

Crowley’s internal schism was interrupted when he watched the cute guy write something on a napkin. Crowley then turned red in the face when he felt both the woman and the man’s eyes shift to him.

"'Zira, you're into goth boys!" The woman loudly whispered out, obnoxiously.

“ _ Zira? Is that your name, pretty-boy? _ ”

‘Zira’ turned red and shushed the hell out of her. “I can't have him knowing! God, you're so loud!”

“ _ Hollllyyy shiiit. I-It’s definitely me. I already know, though, Zira. _ ”

The woman raised her voice back to normal, “Why nooot!?”

“Because!”

“ _ He’s such a dork. _ ”

“God, Aziraphale, you're so introverted.”

“ _ Oh, his name is Aziraphale. How perfect.. _ ”

"It's.. Embarrassing, Anathema!"

Crowley couldn’t help but snort out a laugh, which he played off as him watching something funny on his phone. He wasn’t good at playing things off, but he did his best.

“Do you want help? Asking him out, I mean?”

“ _ YES YES YES YES YE- _ ” Crowley internally screamed.

“What  _ I  _ want is to work on my essay, Ana'.”

Soon, the Anathema stood and gave Newton her number. At least that’s what Crowley assumed that she wrote on that napkin. After that, they began their work. Crowley wondered if Anathema and Aziraphale went to the same college as him. He sat there for a while, admiring the angelic figure at his right. Something felt so right about looking at him. Something about him was different from the previous ones. He seemed.. more domestic to Crowley, for lack of a better term. All good things must come to an end, however, as he had to return to work soon.

“So, Newton, you got a girl’s number, huh?”

“W-What? Oh yeah, I did.”

Crowley gave him a solid pat on the back, “good man.”

* * *

When his shift finally ended, it looked as though Aziraphale and Anathema were packing up. It bothered him, to think that he hasn't done anything to further anything. As he hung up his apron, he watched Aziraphale walk out the door. He could see him mouth "oh bullocks" and turn to cross the street. Crowley watched him step inside the library across the street.

"The library.." Crowley softly said. "Of course.."

"What?"

"Nothing, Newton, nothing.."


	3. Intro to Psychology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their informal, blushy "meeting," Crowley had began to notice just how closely both of their schedules impeded on one another, including in university.

After immediately falling in love with Aziraphale upon first glance, Crowley found he saw him around a lot more often than he thought. Of course either one could look across the street at any time and see the other whenever their shifts overlapped. Over the next week, Crowley saw his little crush in the streets, waiting for the bus, and in between lectures. It's not like Crowley intentionally sought out the nearly angelic boy, but nonetheless it was a nice treat to see him. However, the most surprising encounter came when Crowley spotted Aziraphale in his Thursday morning Intro to Psych class. Crowley had entered the class before him and happened to sit 2 rows back from the blonde.

" _Should I go say hi? No, that's stupid, and creepy. 'Hi, hello, yes, I'm that barista from Sunday who was shooting you weird looks, don't mind that you probably don't even know my name, I'm just gonna invade your personal space.'_ " Crowley scolded internally.

The professor sat down lazily in his chair and began lecturing about the agenda for the day. Crowley couldn't bring himself to pay attention, instead he was more infatuated with being infatuated. With Aziraphale.

" _God, I'm such a creep. I should say something after class. Or actually, I could probably just slink around the library and see if he's working. Wouldn't that be a sight? Me in a library, pretending to read._ "

The course was a particularly long one, lasting from 8 to 10. Of course, Crowley spent most of it staring off at the blonde's profile, who was adorably focused and taking notes. The dainty way Aziraphale held a pencil, his soft and flowy handwriting, and his enchanting "focused face" was more than enough for Crowley to be pink in the face by the end of the lecture. When everyone else started to pack up, he quickly shoved his papers in his backpack. The redhead observed Aziraphale gently replace his notebook into his side bag and exit the lecture hall. Even an action he likely didn't think about very much made Crowley blush oh so dearly.

Crowley stood a few seconds afterwards and parted ways with his love. " _The library's not that far from here. I'll walk._ " He told himself. Despite the seasons turning brighter in England, there were a few cold mornings left that nipped against Crowley's sharp nose and cheeks. He sulked his head back into his black scarf and exhaled, hoping to hang onto any remaining warmth of breath. As he turned the corner to the bookshop, he was disappointed to not see Aziraphale walking. " _Maybe he's taking a bus. Or maybe he's not working today._ " As Crowley would soon find out, the former was true.

The small bell jingled as Crowley entered library. The warmth of the heater and the smell of old books filled Crowley's senses, as well did the sight of Aziraphale behind the front desk. 

"Welcome!" Aziraphale's soft voice greeted in a not-quite-shouting volume. Crowley responded with a smile as he moved into the stacks to pretend to look at books. He picked out a book at random from the fiction section and sat down at one of the back tables. Crowley pretended to read the book and also did actual work on his laptop.

"Can I help you find anything?"

Crowley looked up and locked gaze with the hazel-eyed boy. He tried to choke out an answer, but Aziraphale interrupted him.

"Oh, _A Thousand Acres_ , that's a good one. A-Are you a Jane Smiley fan?" Aziraphale placed a hand on the back of the chair opposite Crowley.

Crowley smiled and nodded quickly. God, he was so pretty, and now he was getting attention from him!

"Oh, goodie! Do you mind if I sit?"

"G-Go ahead." The blonde quickly sat and folded up his glasses, setting them gently on the table. Nothing stood between Crowley's eyes and Aziraphale's now. Strangely, the thought of this was enough to make Crowley blush softly.

"I'm technically supposed to be working, but it's alright." Aziraphale whispered. "I'm more of a fan of her earlier work, At Paradise Gate and The Greenlanders are my top two favourites. I mean, what can I say? I'm a bit of a sucker for sad books. I-I don't mean to offend, but you don't exactly seem like the kind of person to like reading, but I'm glad you are!" Aziraphale went on talking for a lot more time. It seemed he was filling out conversation with empty calories.

In time, Aziraphale's attention came to the desk bell that had been rung. The blonde quickly stood up, said "Excuse me for a moment," grabbed his glasses again, and moved his way to the desk. Crowley took this opportunity to basically have his panic attack and be done with it.

" _Holy hell, he actually talked to me. He sat down with me and had a conversation. I-It was like a date. No, don't be weird, that's freaking weird. God, why am I so weird?_ "

* * *

Meanwhile, as Aziraphale was making his way over to the counter, he silently pondered if he was being annoying. He wanted to make the best impression he could. He thought Crowley was the most winsome guy he'd ever seen. Scaring him off or making him uncomfortable was on the bottom of the list of priorities. He couldn't help but feel, however, that he had at the very least been a bit too chatty. Aziraphale helped the woman who rang the bell and quickly returned to hanging around Crowley.

"I feel like I have a class with you." Crowley blurted out as soon as the blonde sat down and removed his eyeglasses once again.

A bit taken aback, Aziraphale replied, "We might. Oh, my goodness, I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Aziraphale." He stuck out his hand for a handshake.

"Crowley." The redhead gently took Aziraphale's hand, giving it two pumps.

" _He's actually holding my hand! No, he's just shaking it. Be tepid._ " Aziraphale mused.

"Crowley.. what a rare name. Well, I mean, I can't say anything, I have a strange name, too." He said with a petite, gentle grin and rosy cheeks. This caused Crowley's face to return to the pink color from before once again.

"Yeah, I've never met someone with the name Aziraphale.. it's like an old English thing or-or like an angel's!" Crowley spat out.

"I suppose so.." He swallowed.

A beautifully Although they didn't know about the other's feelings, they both wanted to continue a conversation. Aziraphale cleared his throat, "You think we have a class together, you said?"

"Yeah, well, I saw you this morning in Intro to Psych. I mean, I wasn't staring or anything, haha.." He lied.

"Oh, yes, I think I've seen you in that class before."

The conversation fell to a lull. Aziraphale tugged on his collar and adjusted his bowtie. Both of them furiously searched for new topics to discuss, and finally, once again Aziraphale managed to think of something.

"Do you work in that little cafe over there?" He gestured with his thumb.

"Yeah."

"You make a good mocha." Aziraphale giggled. The redhead's heart throbbed and his face turned red once again.

"T-Thank you. I-I really don't have a passion for making coffee, ha.."

Azriaphale's watch beeped. "Oh, sorry, my shift's almost over." He stood and replaced his glasses, "I better get some actual work done before I get fired." Aziraphale smiled and turned to walk away.

In that moment, Crowley couldn't stand to not do anything. "Wait, wait, wait, can I get your number?"

"Hm? Oh, I don't have a cell phone. I can give you my home phone, though."

" _Goodness, I sound so old-fashioned._ "

"That works."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i REFUSE to say azzy has blue eyes, fuck all y'all. jk pls dont leave ily xoxoxo


	4. Study Date - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Friday afternoon succeeding their proper introduction, Aziraphale found himself in languish. An English spring teatime isn't meant to be enjoyed alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of descriptive shit here so buckle in dearies

Aziraphale sat down on the squeaky bed. He eased himself down with a hand on the metal bed frame's decorative, round corner piece. The sunset colors began pouring in through the small crack he had neglected to close in his curtains. Aziraphale lowered his teacup and saucer onto the nightstand and slid his binder full of schoolwork near him. As he swung his binder open, a tiny leaflet of paper fluttered out and onto the ground. Aziraphale quickly picked it up and read the messy handwriting. It said Crowley's name and his phone number under it. The hazel-eyed man felt flushed even reading the redhead's name.

"Oh, dear.. I-I should call him." Aziraphale spoke quietly to himself. His eyes then switched fixation over to the packet of work due in 2 weeks and the essay he needed to edit. Aziraphale's anxiety got the better of him, and he opened the packet to begin working.

"Wait, maybe he could come over.. like a study date! Oh, God, but he's probably busy, and doesn't want to see me, and the place is a mess. M-Maybe I shouldn't, I mean I'm typically not productive when Anathema and I do a study session, but then again.. I could have him here.. Oh, God, what should I do?" He had, at this point, begin to hyperventilate. In a non-literal and non-romantic sense, it felt like the bottom tip of his heart had broken like a figurine and now his anxiety was dripping out like thick, hot, black tar. He felt the anxiety tar stain his stomach and his lungs, causing both to immediately hurt like hell.

Just then, he remembered that his therapist had suggested putting tabs in his bible whenever he found a quote that would help him calm down. So, he grabbed the white leather bound book out from his end table drawer and flipped to a random marked area. He read the words he had highlighted in a faint blue:

" _I have the strength to face all conditions by the power that Christ gives me. I can do all this through Her who gives me strength._" _Philippians 4:13_

Aziraphale placed a hand over his heart and continued to read the quote over and over until he felt his breathing slow. He silently congratulated himself, but turned his attention to the phone.

"I deserve a fun night." He re-assured himself and picked up the phone's receiver. He moved his fingers accordingly on the rotary dial and waited for Crowley to pick up. Despite calming himself, his poor little heart began thumping at a higher rate again.

"H-Hello?" Crowley answered.

"Hi, Crowley! Are you free tonight?"

"U-Uh.." He sounded like he was taken aback, but he cleared his throat and continued, "Y-Yeah, I've just finished with my last class. What.. what do you want to do?"

"I was thinking you could come over and we could work on homework."

"O-Okay! Sounds great! Absolutely brilliant! Can I have your address?"

"Yeah it's 48 Edgeway Road. See you soon."

"Yeah, see ya.."

Click. Aziraphale had replaced the phone and let out a deep sigh of relief.

"You did, it, Azzy."

* * *

After Aziraphale had hung up, Crowley couldn't help but slide his back down against the brick lecture hall's exterior. He sat there, on the cold pavement, trying to not have a panic attack, again. Hearing his angel's voice was the most sweet form of sorrow. Crowley had noticed that about himself, that he was so drawn to voices. With his previous lovers he always cherished their vocals, like a child with a seashell after a day at the beach. He obsessed over them, analyzing their timbre and pitch in their voice, their vocal mannerisms, their volume. To Crowley, voices were as intricate as a Michelangelo rendition, or like the tiniest snowflake. All of this, Crowley had already done for Aziraphale, even though they'd only shared now two conversations.

Crowley rose from his flat cement throne. He thanked his lucky stars the weather was looking up, although the sun didn't matter much to him. As he walked, the beams of evening mood lighting that struck the corner of his eyes and what little skin he had exposed were more of an annoyance than a delight. A china cabinet's full of reasons led to this assumption from Crowley, but the most likely reason for his bitterness was that he simply found it boring, really. Waking up every single day with the sun filling the atmosphere made Crowley ungrateful towards it. It was human nature, however, to take such for granted, yet so many still would welcome the sun with open, warm arms. Why was he different? The question had crossed his mind many times before, like the geminid meteor shower over Earth.

Crowley, in time, did reach 48 Edgeway Road. His crush's small, one-bedroom flat was quite quaint. The little-less-than-one meter tall brick wall that half-covered his minute lawn was over pouring with two-tone English ivy leaves and held on top of it a series of small planters with brilliantly colored hyacinths and bluebells. Inside the white-trimmed bay window arranged on the second floor, he could see a bunch of succulents enjoying the final daylight hours in their white curtain womb. As Crowley pushed open the tiny, useless gate he watched an alley cat scamper across the lawn and dodge its way on top of the dividing fence. As he stood under the moss-dotted eave of Aziraphale's flat he couldn't help but notice just how antique the whole aesthetic of the house was.

"Ah, Crowley, welcome to my humble little cottage. Please, come in." Aziraphale answered the door so formally and sweetly.

Crowley felt his cheeks grow hot for what must've been the millionth time. "Thank you." He hesitated when he stepped inside, not sure if he was to remove his shoes, before noticing that Aziraphale seemed to not care.

Crowley noticed that the interior matched the exterior in the antique department. A small, round, dark oak table sat with it's matching chair friends sat directly adjacent to the tiny entryway. A curio centerpiece sat on top at the mesial point, overflowing with the same delicate flowers from outside. The kitchen came with bar seating, which it appeared to be left useless to Aziraphale. Instead, the blonde had opted to put a bookshelf under countertop. His kitchen looked ancient. The stove top was gas and metal and the fridge had an old-time-y latch door. The kitchen window was framed with lacy, but ultimately useless curtains.

"Would you like some tea?"

"Oh, no, I don't want to be a bother."

"Oh, it's not a problem, dear. It's teatime! That means it's time for tea!"

" _D-Did he just call me dear? Dear... how sweet._ "

" _DID I ACCIDENTALLY JUST CALL HIM DEAR?! OH, GOSH WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!_ " Aziraphale turned rosy.

"Okay, then.. yeah I think I'll have some." The hazel-eyed fellow smiled and nodded in return.

Crowley just watched Aziraphale in his actions. Each and every one was so deliberate and gentle.

"Do you have a preference? On the tea I mean."

"Ah, yeah, just earl grey is good for me."

"Okay. You can head upstairs and get started, I'll watch the pot." Crowley nodded and made his way up the thin, delicate staircase.

Crowley admired the attention to detail in Aziraphale's place and felt glad they weren't at his flat. Once he reached Aziraphale's room, he found it adorable. The bay windows from earlier crested Aziraphale's twin sized bed. His twin nightstands were surprisingly messy, and were made lopsided by a single lamp on the right one. The room was cut in a 3/4 ratio, with Aziraphale's actual bedroom taking up the majority of it. The other tiny percentage was used as a finished bathroom. Crowley collapsed his behind onto Aziraphale's bed, which squeaked when it compressed.

"Tea's ready!" Aziraphale said excitedly. "How about some study music. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Do you have anything by John Lennon?"

"Let's see here.." Aziraphale picked through the waist-high shelf of records, which was topped with more books. "I have one he did with Yoko Ono. Oh, this is such a pretty song.." The blonde admired the song's name, which happened to be _Grow Old With Me_. He set the needle down onto the correct area and immediately the song picked up.

Aziraphale sat next to Crowley on the bed, with about a half meter difference between them. He locked eyes with the other, darker-aesthetic one and felt his cheeks grow pink.

"Um.. shall we?" Crowley set his bag down and took out his packet of work. Aziraphale followed suit, as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha we projecting onto fictional characters slightly


	5. Study Date - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Crowley and Aziraphale ignore their work, they slowly realize just how much they have in common, and begin to open up about certain feelings.

Crowley and Aziraphale began working on their packets they were assigned in their shared psychology class. Mostly they worked quietly, with the vocals of John Lennon and Yoko Ono being the cutting force in silence. Crowley's posture began to stray from dawdle, before he just leaned onto his back for a more comfortable reading position. Just as his posture strayed, so did his attention. He caught himself multiple times staring at Aziraphale do his work sweetly in his lap. Crowley tried to turn his attention back to his work, but just couldn't help but trace his friend and lover's round face.

Crowley started to think about the things he wanted to do to and with Aziraphale. He wanted to go for walks through gorgeous parks and hold his soft hands and kiss his forehead in front of a flock of ducks wading in the water. He wanted to wander through museums and watch Aziraphale be a dork about every piece in the building. Did Aziraphale like fine art? Crowley assumed he did. Crowley wanted to hold Aziraphale in his lap, arms wrapped around the blonde's neck and gently nudge the back of his head with lips and nose. He wanted to slowly drink with Aziraphale and give him soft, sloppy, drunken kisses. He wanted to be sickly sweet to him. Crowley wanted to stare into his eyes on the alter and udder the words "I do." Crowley wanted to be terribly domestic with him. Was it normal to want to do all these things in your first date? Was this a date?

" _What the hell are you doing? He doesn't even like you. You're disgusting. Look at yourself._ " His inner demon said.

To distract himself, Crowley asked Aziraphale gently: "Do you like museums?"

"Hm? Oh, I love museums! Do you?"

"They're alright, I prefer natural ones better though."

"Mm.." The blonde turned his attention back to his work.

Crowley's gaze didn't waver. He was desperate for more attention from him. It seemed that Aziraphale wanted that as well, as he quickly asked, "Have you ever been to the University's one?"

"No, I haven't had the chance."

"Not in the year and a half you've been attending here?"

Crowley shook his head.

"You're no fun, Crowley." The blonde teased.

"Oh, I think I'm plenty of fun, _Aziraphale_." Crowley sat up, making eye contact. "You just can't handle my fun."

"Oh I can't, can I?"

"I don't think you can."

"Alright, Crowley, what's your idea of fun, then?"

" _Kissing you._ "

Crowley stretched and removed his coat. "The night starts with alcohol. Quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol."

"And?"

"And then food. Pub food. Bowl of chips, rump steak, whatever you fancy."

"I'm a fan of fish and chips myself."

"Yeah, that's what I'm getting at. Anyway, you return back home with your special someone, love making, music, maybe more alcohol."

"None of this is something I can't handle."

"Really? No offense, but Aziraphale, you don't look like a man who can keep his liquor down."

"Well, I am. I just.. choose not to."

"Why?"

"Because it's.. not something our Lord would like."

"...Oh."

Although Crowley personally thought religion was unnecessary, he didn't want to tell Aziraphale that. The room fell into an awkward lull.

"...I didn't know you were a man of God. I'm sorry, Aziraphale."

"I forgive you."

"... How into it are you? Into the whole.. religion thing, that is?"

"I'm dedicated to going to church every Sunday, and I turn to The Bible and Her for comfort and safety."

"I suppose that works."

The record stopped playing and the needle rose automatically with a satisfying pop. The room was truly silent for the first time.

"Are you Catholic?" Crowley asked.

"I go to a Anglican church, but I don't really consider myself Anglican, either. So, I suppose not."

" _I wonder if he's homophobic. He's probably not, but it's worth asking._ "

"What are your views on.. gays?"

"Well, I'm gay myself, so I'm of course fully open to them."

" _HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHI-_ " Crowley screamed internally.

"What about you, Crowley?"

"Hm?"

"What're your views? Are you a man of God as well?"

Crowley didn't know what to say. He wanted to tell the truth, but every screaming fiber of his being wanted to please Aziraphale in any circumstance. He found himself studdering over his words, trying to spit out an answer. If he told the truth, what would Aziraphale do? Would he disown him? Would he hate him? And if Crowley lied through his teeth, Aziraphale was bound to find out at some point. He's clearly not dumb. The schism in his brain caused him to spit out a half-baked answer.

"Me? Oh, I-I don't know, m-maybe! I-I just never have time for church, a-and I really don't k-know how I feel about any of it."

Aziraphale looked confused, and was waiting on an answer.

"I don't know, Aziraphale, I'm sorry."

"Oh.." Aziraphale looked neutral, perhaps teetering on the side of hurt. "That's okay. It's okay, Crowley. She loves you and forgives you no matter what. Maybe we could.. go to church together sometime or something."

That made Crowley smile, for some reason. Maybe it was because Aziraphale was accepting him. Maybe it was because he was lucky enough to be looking at him.

Aziraphale stood and re-adjusted his vest and pants. He moved to the record player and slid the record back into its sleeve carefully. "Do you mind if I play something?"

"No, not at all."

Aziraphale put on a classical record. Crowley detested classical music, although of course he wasn't going to say so. He just simply put up with it.

"Oh, have you ever read this one?" Aziraphale plucked a Jane Smiley book off the shelf beside the record player and handed it to him.

"Ah, I can't say that I have."

"You what?!"

"I haven't read it."

"How can you not have read the best one?!"

"I dunno."

Aziraphale plunked himself down close to Crowley. This caused the redhead to blush furiously. The fingertips of their supporting hand were touching.

"It's a wonderfully hilarious book about a carpenter and some less-than-holy things. I think you'd really like it." Aziraphale beamed.

"That's sweet, Aziraphale, really, it is.. but I'm afraid I can't accept this."

"It's no problem, Crowley, really! Please, you'll really love it, I promise." His voice turned whiny and beg-y. Crowley found this irresistible.

"Okay.."

Aziraphale smiled brightly and blushed.

" _You'll really love it, just like I hope you love me, Crowley._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i prankt yall with that summary hehehehehe


	6. Terrible Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale goes to see Dr. Potts every Monday. He's not a good therapist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning - this chapter uses the f****t slur and the q***r slur towards the end.

Aziraphale sat in the squishy chair in the waiting room, cross-legged and enjoying one of Jane Smiley's books. Ever since he found out Crowley liked Jane Smiley, he'd been re-reading them obsessively. He found that doing something he knew Crowley liked was therapeutic. At the same time, though, he felt strange going to church the previous day. Not bad, but just.. different. Was this abusive? No, Crowley hadn't done anything to him. They weren't even dating yet. None of it made sense to Aziraphale. But, that's why he had a therapist. To talk.

Dr Potts opened the door and smiled. "Hey, how are you? I've been on the phone with insurance companies all day. Come on in, have a seat."

Aziraphale stood and made his way into the office. Dr. Potts was a strange fellow. His tall, stick figure and grey hair gave off professor vibes, however his casual and eccentric clothes gave off something impeded on this. The guy had a weasily voice that was unpleasant at first, but one could adjust to. He had a thick Brooklyn accent, as he was an immigrant to the UK.

His office was something different all together. A green armchair sat back turned to the door with a matching couch facing it. A small bookshelf sat to the right of the armchair, which held children's books and biblical tomes intermingled with one another. A massive oak chest was to the left and away a bit from the couch, which Aziraphale had never seen open. Beside the chest was Dr. Potts' messy desk. Strewn across it were countless pamphlets about various help lines and clinics, his half-eaten lunch, which seemed bizarre as it was well after teatime. He had a small, electric kettle to the left of his computer, which even to someone as old-fashioned as Aziraphale that seemed like a hazard. His desk chair was uncomfortably high up, but Aziraphale wasn't one to judge. His walls had several biblical inspirational posters on it and there was a crucifix above Dr. Potts' laptop.

Aziraphale plunked himself down onto the couch, which sank the same as the chairs outside did. He slid his book into his messenger bag and took his Bible out, which he let rest in his lap. Dr. Potts signed into his computer and prepared himself to make notes.

"How have you been?" Dr. Potts asked, back turned to Aziraphale.

"Pretty good.. and you?"

"I've been alright." He wheeled around and sat at the green armchair, laptop in his lap. "How's your anxiety been?"

Aziraphale thought to all the times he was about to have a heart attack from just talking to Crowley. "To be honest, n-not great." He shook his head. "But not for a bad reason."

"Oh? And what's the reason?"

"Uhhh.." Aziraphale blushed and cleared his throat. "I- uh.. met someone."

"Oh." Dr. Potts nodded. "How is he or she? I don't judge either way."

"Um.. well he's tall.. handsome, red-haired, sort of a.. darker personality. He's a graphic design student at Brookes Oxford. He works in a coffee shop.. Yeah, that's about it."

Aziraphale watched Dr. Potts manically type every word down. He finally looked up and asked, "where'd you meet this guy?"

"We didn't formally meet until he came into the library. We had a lovely conversation about books." He smiled and touched his own cheek with his right hand and stared at the floor.

"And how does he effect your anxiety?"

"Well, you know, doc, I'm not the most.. socially inept person. I-I'm not good at keeping conversation, I-I always find some way to mess it up or make it awkward. I feel that my relationship with him is so fragile, I-I could break it at any moment and I just r-really don't know what to do." He looked as though he could cry.

"Mm-hm. Have you been doing the trick with the sticky tabs in the bible?"

"Yes, Doc, I have been, but I feel weird doing it when I'm around him."

"Is he.. Christian?"

"When I asked him he said he wasn't sure."

"Ah.. I can see where you're coming from there. When you do it, has it been helping?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Good, keep that up. And don't feel ashamed to do it in front of him. He can think what he wants. Although, I know that's not something you can turn off like a faucet."

Aziraphale nodded and sneakily wiped away his tears. He was on the verge of a breakdown for no reason.

"Are you.. like, dating him?"

"No, no no no. I wish, though."

"Ah. How long have you known him?"

"Oh, little more than a week."

"My goodness, Aziraphale, you've really fallen this hard for him in a week?"

Aziraphale pursed his lips and nodded.

"Well, you know the Lord gives you strength to always do something. Her presence is within you, and She will give you power to make your decisions." Dr. Potts continued for a longer time, but Aziraphale wasn't going to pay attention. He knew that wasn't the most polite thing to be doing.

He instead found his mind wandering. Wandering, like a group of childhood friends along the bank of a river. His mind finally settled on the thought of Crowley. What did Crowley want from him? Did he want a friendship? A study buddy deal? Something more? To be husbands? Questions he wish he had the courage and strength to ask. Yes, he of course knew all the mantras about "She gives you strength" and whatever, but it didn't feel like it. He didn't feel Her love within him anymore. Was he doing something wrong? Was there something wrong with him?

"Uh, Aziraphale, sorry, I was rambling. Our time is up."

"Oh, thank you doc." He stood, slung the messenger bag over his shoulder and exited the lobby. Aziraphale sat on the bench outside and waited for Anathema to show, who should have been here by now. The sun was beginning to set. He could tell it was going to be a stormy night. The air had that smell of pre-storm ozone. The atmosphere had low pressure and was warm, unusually warm for a UK springtime. The sunset was pink, Shepard's warning. Despite all signs of ambient Armageddon, the night was pretty. A lot of the evenings had been pretty, even if they were overcast. Unlike Aziraphale's counterpart, the sun was the thing that drove him out of bed in the morning. He enjoyed the orange light on his face, its ultraviolet assault on his body. The UK was a terrible place to live if you like the sun, however.

Anathema's small white car entered the business park's parking lot. Aziraphale stepped in and gave a smile.

"Thank you for giving me a lift."

"It's not a problem. It's actually on my way home from my last class."

The trees had obscured the true beauty of the whole sunset in the parking lot. As Aziraphale stared off into the sky, he returned to his questions he had. _Was_ there something wrong with him?

In the eyes of the church, yes.

* * *

Aziraphale thought back to when he was young, and in Bible summer camp. That summer had been unusually wet, so a lot of outdoor activities had been moved inside the dining hall. The camp was run by a Pastor and his wife. One afternoon they were doing their daily Bible readings, when one of the students piped up with a question on _Leviticus 18:22._

"Pastor Louis, what does 'lie with a male as he would a woman' mean?"

"Oh, that's talking about homosexuality, Michael. It is one of Her commandments that boys shall not be in love with boys, and girls shouldn't be in love with girls."

"Oh." The other student quieted down after that and bowed his head again.

Aziraphale bit his tongue. Even at age 12 he thought he knew he didn't like girls like his friends did. He thought it couldn't hurt to ask.

"But what if you do?"

"Hm?"

"What if you do like boys and you're a boy?"

"Then prepare for the fiery pits of Hell burning away at your flesh."

"Martin.." The Pastor's wife said quietly from across the room.

"No, Carol, it's true. All homosexuals go to Hell. You're an abomination against God, you hear?" The Pastor's words cut like a knife. He stood up and grabbed Aziraphale by the arm. The Pastor forced him to stand, which caused both pain and a loud yelp to be let out by Aziraphale. 

"I don't want to be around a faggot! Get the Hell out of my camp, dirty sinner!" The Pastor pushed open the large wooden door and threw him outside in the hard rain. The Pastor stared into Aziraphale's face as he began to sob, caused by the pain, sheer embarrassment, and the thought that he was in fact a sin.

"I'll be calling your parents about this. Queer." He slammed the door shut. It only opened one more time to throw out his duffel bag.

Aziraphale curled into a fetal position and wept under the cold and the rain. His blue button up was stained with mud. He felt this was God's punishment, like God never really loved him for being a dirty sinner, a mistake. A fallen angel, if you will.

* * *

Aziraphale touched his face and realized he was crying, and that he was now back at his flat.

"You okay, there, Aziraphale?" Anathema asked gently and placed a hand on his shoulder.

He sniffled for a second and tried his tears with his dress shirt sleeve. Aziraphale gave a re-assuring, yet shaky look and grinned. "Yeah, just.. rough day. And therapy stirred something up from a long time ago."

"Oh. You uh, wanna talk about it?"

He shook his head. "Not right now, Anathema. Thank you for the lift home." He got out of the car and felt a drop on the back of his neck.

"Get better soon, Aziraphale." She called, and drove away.

He made his way inside, ran up the stairs and collapsed on his bed to silently weep, the same way he had all those years ago. The thunder cracks didn't help his anxiety either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohoho it's a long one this time, dearies. hope your emotions are ready for the next chapter.


	7. Tuesday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale go and get breakfast before their first class together.

Crowley had woken up earlier than he usually did that Tuesday. Normally, the redhead would flop out of bed at a measly 8 am and make his way to the athletics center for his morning run, but today he had woken up at 6. He rolled over in bed once he saw the time. " _Too early_." He thought. However, he was fully awoken when his cell phone began buzzing incessantly. Once he read who it was, he immediately sat up and picked up.

"Hey, Aziraphale."

"Oh, hello and good morning to you, Crowley." The blonde from the other end of the line said in a quiet tone. "I hope I didn't wake you up."

"No, no," Crowley cleared his throat and talked in his best wide-awake voice, "I'm a morning person, I've been up for an hour. So what's up?" He lied.

"I was wondering if you wanted to grab breakfast before our first class." Aziraphale was pretending nothing had happened that previous night, like he didn't cry himself to sleep. "Me and Anathema usually do, but she wasn't feeling well today."

"Y-Yeah, that sounds good. Do you have a place in mind?"

"Yes, actually, the spot we usually go to does wonderful things to sourdough bread and eggs."

"Ah. D'you need a lift?"

"No, no, thank you for offering, but no. I'll just bus over."

"Oh, you don't have to bus. I'll pick you up in 30. 48 Edgeway road, right?"

"O-Oh, thank you, thank you. Yes, I'll see you then."

"See ya.." Crowley hung up. He immediately slid out of bed to quickly get dressed and shower.

* * *

The hazel-eyed pity stayed on the line for a moment after Crowley hung up. "I love you," is what he wished he could end the call with.

Aziraphale was a morning person, too. By 6 am, he would have already began reading his daily Bible chapter and been dressed and showered. He usually woke up to his antique cuckoo clock cooing at him. He liked to wake up early and get things done when he felt fresh. This morning, though, his Bible verse sat unread and his hygiene had been undone. It had mostly something to do with the fact that he spent the previous night cowering and weeping.

Aziraphale slid out of bed and combed his curly blonde locks. He put on his usual button up and opted for a sweater vest today paired with a blue and brown thick tartan bow tie. He would just have to deal with the fact that he hadn't showered and looked like a mess. He misted his plants, packed his side bag for the day, and sat down at his tiny dining room table to begin reading the Bible. Aziraphale felt like he was reading because he had to, like an American high school student cramming for a _To Kill A Mockingbird_ quiz the following day. He usually enjoyed his reading of the biblical scripture. But ever since he felt like a burden, he felt like reading the Bible was a pathetic move.

So then why would he invite Crowley to breakfast? It was a desperate attempt at gaining some sort of validity from someone. Every time he hung around Crowley he felt like he was enjoying himself, for lack of a better term. He felt better when Crowley was around. Crowley was like a drug to him. His amphetamine, his ketamine, his Zoloft. But he knew God didn't like that. God didn't like him anymore for feeling this way.

This brought him back to the original question he had: what was wrong with him?

Except, this time, he had the answer. He was gay. God hates the gays. God hates him.

He touched his face, which was stained with tears once again. The remaining minutes before Crowley arrived were spent weeping over the Bible again.

A knock came at the door.

"Aziraphale? You in there?"

Aziraphale quickly dried his tears, but there was nothing he could do about his puffy eyes. He stood up, collected his Bible, and himself. When he opened the door, Crowley's expression shifted from a smile to a concerned expression which camped on his face.

"Aziraphale, no offense but you look terrible."

"Elegant wording, dear.."

"Is.. something the matter?" Crowley didn't know if he was overstepping his boundaries with this new, delicate-like-a-water-lily relationship.

Aziraphale sniffled and dried a tear from his eye again. "I'm fine, I was just.. preparing a cucumber onion salad." Crowley could tell he was lying.

"You sure?"

One more tear dripped out of his eye and down his cheek. Aziraphale didn't notice the salty drop, but instead pursed his lips and nodded.

Crowley didn't know what to do. Should he dry his tear? Should he not comment on the tear and invited him back to his car? Should he hug him? Yes, that works.

Crowley bent downwards slightly, since their heights were not equal, and wrapped each arm under the arms of Aziraphale, squeezing him tightly. The blonde was shocked by this sudden forwardness and blushed intensely. He slowly and jerkily wrapped his own arms around the neck of Crowley. He began whimpering and bawling into the redhead's shoulder.

After what seemed like a few minutes, they separated.

"I-I'm sorry," Aziraphale sniffled again,"I shouldn't be bothering you with my problems." He pushed past Crowley and made his way out of his little yard. "Come, on then, it's time for breakfast."

"Ah- okay."

The energy between the two had done a 180.

"Crowley.. is this your car?" Aziraphale swooned over the charcoal Bentley, which was in tip top shape.

"..Yeah?"

"This is.. an incredible car! How'd you ever get your hands on it?"

"Ahh, um, it's sort of a family heirloom. Come on, then." The two slid into the car. Aziraphale minded the leather interior very much with his hands.

"Where are we going?"

"The Handle Bar Café. I'll give you directions."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's a bit short today! i'll try and post more today or tomorrow! x


	8. Loving Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley reflects on what their life could be.

Breakfast went smoothy between the two. Crowley ordered a ham, spinach, and egg sandwich on sourdough while Aziraphale ordered a toad-in-a-hole on sourdough as well. They ate fairly quietly, and what few conversations they held felt like they were dancing around what happened. The whole situation was so foreign to Crowley. Aziraphale seemed so in control of his emotions, so patient, so.. complete. It's part of the reason why Crowley felt so stable when the blonde was around. He was the sugar to his sour.

Little did Crowley know it, but Aziraphale felt the opposite. Stability was key in Aziraphale's life, yes, but his life also felt monotonous. Crowley was the final lemon squeeze on a delicious piece of crab, the missing piece to the puzzle, and the last link in a domestic chain. What Aziraphale lacked, Crowley had. Crowley had freedom, a loose collar, if you will. Crowley had a certain sweet apathy to situations. He was carefree. The opposite of a stick-up-the-ass. Silences were animated with smiles, even when it was clear Aziraphale wasn't feeling well.

Crowley dropped Aziraphale off at his British sign language course around an hour later. The two shared a look when Crowley stopped the Bentley that was such like a candied domiciliary. Aziraphale gave a smile that could warm all of Canada as he opened the car door.

"Have a good day, dear."

"Ah- You too." Crowley blushed at the pet name.

Now that their breakfast was done, Crowley had several hours to kill before he had work. If he was responsible, he'd spend them doing unfinished homework from the night before or reading a couple Jane Smiley books, which he had previously lied that he adored. Instead he decided to pop in a _Best of Queen_ CD and drive around town for a while. Except, instead of paying attention to what he was doing on the road he was going to imagine their future together.

* * *

They would both have graduated. By this time, they'd of dated for 3 years. They'd move out to a cottage or a cabin somewhere in one of the rare sunny parts of the UK. Aziraphale would wake up first, in Crowley's arms. He'd place a tender good morning kiss on the redhead's neck and slowly move his way out of bed. He'd put on his glasses delicately and do his usual self-grooming routine, then go downstairs for a moment to have his usual Bible study. If this imaginary day was a Sunday, he'd wait until church time for his daily spirituality.

Crowley would wake about an hour afterwards, once his body and his mind had noticed Aziraphale had gone. He'd fuss like an infant without its bottle and roll out of bed. He'd make his way downstairs in pajamas, which were a scandalous boxers and tank top.

Aziraphale would smile and shake his head at his undressed boyfriend. He'd say, "the neighbors are going to stare." To which Crowley would respond with "Let 'em."

Crowley would wrap his arms around the neck of Aziraphale from behind and place a kiss on the blonde's head before resting his own head on top.

"Doin' your Bible stuff?" He'd say, which Aziraphale would nod and go "Mhm."

"Right." Crowley would make his way to the kitchen and ask Aziraphale if he'd like some coffee. After spending the entirety of his college career making lattes and cappuccinos, he figure he could handle whatever Aziraphale threw at him.

"Mocha for me, dear."

As he'd pour the coffee into an improvised heart shape, he'd look back at the blonde and ask, "what would you like to do today, angel?"

"I was thinking we could visit that new museum that opened up near Alton. I've got to pick up some groceries on the way back, too." The blonde would say with a smile.

"It's a date, then." Crowley would have his coffee with Aziraphale and check his phone. He'd go upstairs afterwards and pull on a grey sweater and jeans.

They'd leave at a reasonable hour, around 11. As Crowley drove, Aziraphale would stare out the window at the rolling golf course hills, which he had pointed out and mistaken for an empty vineyard at first. The redhead would laugh. They'd have their hands interlocked at the armrest console of the Bentley. The radio would be on to a college station, some sort of quiet nostalgia-fest indie song would be playing.

They'd reach their destination at around 11:30, where Crowley would watch Aziraphale beam at all of the exhibits.

As they'd approach a painting, Aziraphale would point excitedly at the re-creation of a battle of angels. "Ooh, this one's my favorite!"

"You're _my_ favorite museum piece, angel." Crowley would kiss his lover's soft forehead and hold his face. Yellowish eyes would meet hazel ones.

Aziraphale would smile and blush furiously. They'd interlock fingers and he'd drag them to another museum room.

Eventually, the blonde would have enough of it and be hungry enough to stop at the museum café. Crowley would sit across from him and watch Aziraphale eat his pre-packaged sandwich. He'd smile.

They'd return to the Bentley where Aziraphale would make a silly comment about bebop when Crowley popped in a CD. He'd roll his eyes into the next dimension.

The pair would in fact stop at the store. Aziraphale would pick up fancy cheeses and gnocchi, Crowley would sneak potato chips and energy drinks into the basket.

They'd go back to their little cottage. When Crowley stepped outside the car he'd take an opportunity to take in the atmosphere. He'd admire their house. It would be brick, two stories. Small lawn in the front yard, flower beds that lined the gothic metal fence that they had joint custody over. One of the outdoor orange cats that Aziraphale fed would be sunning himself on the grass. A medium sized English oak would be to the left of the door. Their small porch would have a rocking chair on it, that Crowley enjoyed smoking the occasional cigar or sipping a cool drink in the sweltering summertime.

They'd each carry a paper bag inside their house. As they put away the groceries, they'd be admiring each other in secret.

The small optimist inside Crowley said it could all be done. He could have a perfect life.

* * *

Crowley turned his attention to his cell phone at a red light, which was alerting him that work would start in an hour. He sighed, which metamorphosed into a snarl. He'd spend the shift with Newton once again. Crowley pulled into a parallel parking spot and hopped out. He figured he could have some coffee and wait for his shift to start in the meantime.

Newton was already working when Crowley arrived. The brown haired man had been on the opening shift. "Morning, Crowley."

"Morning." The darker of the two returned with a hand motion. "Huh, you've gotten the hang of opening, haven't ya'?"

"Y-Yeah, I think so."

Crowley slinked around the counter and pulled on his apron, which he tied in his usual fashion. "I've got an hour until I can clock in, so I'm just gonna sit for a while and have some coffee."

Newton nodded.

Crowley made his Americano in silence, which he put in a to-go cup for convenience sake.

"Isn't that your friend working across the street?" Newton asked and pointed.

"Hm?"

"The blonde guy. Looks like he's working today too."

"Oh." Crowley looked into the library, where he saw Aziraphale, long-faced and stamping books into the system. "How's you and Anathema going?"

"A-Anathema? Oh, i-it's fine, she and I are just friends though, haha.." He blushed and scratched the back of his neck.

Crowley gave a sly smirk with teeth. "Uh-huh. Friends." He giggled a bit and sat down at the table nearest to the counter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> crowley be like "tHiS cOuLd Be Us bUt YoU pLaYiNg"


	9. Just One Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anathema, Aziraphale, Crowley, and Newton enjoy an intimate party together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: extreme internalized homophobia and self-hatred towards the end here. have fun, darlings!!

Crowley wasn't in the party scene. Not since he started university, anyway. He had a hard enough time balancing grades, a job, and general self-care on its own. Instead, he prided himself on allowing just once a week, scheduled time for goofing off. Every Friday, from 5-11 PM, he allotted time for what he called "Generalized Shenanigans And/Or Getting Wasted Tickety-Boo Fun Time." The title of the time block was fitting, as that's exactly what he did.

This Friday, however, he felt like sharing it with friends. Maybe some subconscious part of him wanted to cheer up Aziraphale, maybe he wanted to ask about what happened on Tuesday, maybe he just wanted to give Newton a chance to score with Anathema. Who knows? Crowley didn't know, himself, to be honest.

He had called everyone over and was waiting on his sleek black couch for everyone to arrive. He had set out some alcohol, although he limited it to no more than 2 bottles of wine, which lay rest on the coffee table. Crowley's flat wasn't awful, although it certainly lacked furniture. The closest way to describe it was a modern vampire's castle, compacted into 49 square meters. The walls were painted a sleek color and not a meter of carpet lay on the floor. The living room was a TV mounted to the wall, a plush couch, armchair, and a mahogany coffee table. Studio lights sunk into the ceiling and provided maximum light. The border of the room was dotted with potted plants, both small and massive, which soaked in every once of sunlight that filled the room from the ceiling-to-floor windows.

Crowley's bedroom was connected to the living space, which was basically barren. He had a twin size bed in the corner, which was never made up. A shelf or two full of records were lined along the opposite side of the room, with a record player/radio combo at the end of the line. His en suite washroom had a few smaller plants in the windowsill, and other than that was empty besides of course the usual loo, shower, sink.

His kitchen was abysmal, usually, however today Crowley had made an effort to clean it up a bit. He had bought a cheese, cracker, and meat plate from the store and had unwrapped it on the counter. Bags of chips had been left next to the cheese plate.

Newton knocked on the door first and Crowley called out to come on in.

"Hey, Newton. How're ya?"

"I'm good, you?"

"Good. Come help me pick out an album." He motioned towards his bedroom.

"O-Okay."

Crowley was flicking through the aforementioned records, before he settled on _Heroes_ , by David Bowie. The album, more specifically. Newton really didn't help at all with picking out a record, but Crowley never expected him too. He just didn't want to be alone.

Newton and Crowley sat having awkward banter for some time. Again, Crowley and Newton barely knew each other. They really were just coworkers.

But, then again, Crowley had known Aziraphale for even less time, and he felt so connected to him. Why was that? Well, a simple answer was they were in love with one another. Or, maybe the pretenses they met under were more friendly than a purely work relationship. Or perhaps Crowley and Aziraphale just gelled better. It was bizarre, really. They were opposites. And despite the saying, opposites do not attract. If you share little in common, you're less likely to have further interactions, and therefore a relationship has no opportunity to blossom. Aziraphale spent his days reading, studying, enjoying cute little coffee shops and wearing.. sweaters. Crowley was into black, Bentleys, and raising hell, or so he liked to let on. Aziraphale was a churchgoer. Crowley was a sadist and a masochist at the same time.

The whole thing didn't bother him much, unlike his counterpart. You could say he wasn't wrapped around the axle about it.

Aziraphale and Anathema arrived a bit later. The brown-haired made her way inside first to give a kiss on the cheek to Newton. " _Just friends, my ass, Newton._ " Crowley mused, and turned his attention back to the blonde at his door.

"Ah-um.. afternoon Crowley." Aziraphale still looked like a wreck, but he seemed a tiny bit better. The two weren't sure if they were on hugging terms yet, so they shared a small moment of awkward sourness and indecisive motions. They eventually pulled in for a single-second hug. Even that much contact with the other one was enough to make them both smile and blush.

Anathema noticed this and sat closest to Newton, who was seated in the armchair, just so Crowley and Aziraphale would have to sit next to one another.

"You doin' well?"

Aziraphale nodded, lips pursed.

"Okay.. come on, then." Crowley moved out of the way and let Aziraphale in.

"Uh.. Crowley, I didn't know you liked plants!" Aziraphale smiled and examined each one with his hand gently.

"Oh, yeah? Oh, right, sorry, I remember now, you have plants too."

"These ones are so.. perfect and wonderful. And look at this beauty!" He pointed out the indoor tree that had great, big, beautiful leaves.

"They're really nothing, I promise you."

"Nothing? But.." Aziraphale looked over at the wine, his expression fell from overjoyed to something less than 50% smiling.

"Youdon'thavetodrink." Crowley spat out.

"What?"

The redhead cleared his throat, "I said you don't have to drink if you don't want to."

"No, it's okay.."

"Okay.. No pressure!"

Aziraphale seated himself next to Anathema. Crowley seated himself next to him. Their legs were touching. It was awkward.

The night went nicely. Aziraphale slowly moved from sipping his wine to gulping it. Why? Because he was going to need to be tipsy for what he wanted to accomplish tonight. Crowley noticed this, and commented on it quietly when Anathema and Newton were in their own world.

"Hey.. are you okay? You're really knocking back that red, haha.."

"Huh? Oh, no, I'm just.. fine."

"You sure?"

"Um.. I'm-"

The last thing the two saw of the other, heterosexual pair was Anathema pulling Newton by his collar into Crowley's room and slamming the door.

"Goddamnit, right on my bed." Crowley growled out. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

Aziraphale gulped a bit more down, and sniffled. "I-I'm sorry, Crowley. I'm sorry, God."

"Azzy.." Crowley said, lowly. "Why are you apologizing to me? And what's God have to do with this?"

"I-I'm an abomination to Christ!"

"What? Who told you that."

"Pastor Louis."

"Okay, well, I don't know who that is, but-"

"I was in love with you. B-but I can't be with you, Crowley." He finally spat out.

Crowley's heart shattered, and he could feel it do so as well. He gripped his jacket where his heart was.

"We're two men, men aren't supposed to be in relationships with one another, it's completely.. against the Bible! It's against my very religion! It's against everything God has ever said to me or anyone else!" He slammed a fist down on the coffee table, which caused Crowley to wince. "I-It's.."

He served him a look that was laced with lead and asbestos, which could poison one's mind with sorrow if you got too much exposure.

"I hate myself, Crowley." Aziraphale grabbed at the back of his blonde locks and began sobbing, bowing his head as if he was being lashed.

Crowley's eyes filled with tears. He placed both of his hands on Aziraphale's shoulders and drew him in close. He shushed Aziraphale and traced loving circles on his back, letting him weep into his shoulder once again. The two were both sobbing now.

"D-Don't say that about yourself.."

"A-Am I supposed to lie?"

"N-No, but.. if you say it out loud it's more damaging if you say it out loud."

"But it's true."

"No.."

"What do you mean, no? I-I hate myself, so does God, so does everyone I meet, so do my parents, so do my friends." He yelled into Crowley's shoulder.

"Why do you think God hates you? She doesn't. God can't hate anyone. That's the whole point."

"I-I'm a fucking monster. I don't know how to do anything right," he sniffled, wiping his tears bluntly, "Let's face it, I'm a vulgar, licentious fool in Her eyes."

They separated so they could look at each other in the eyes. "No! I-I.." Crowley stuttered, heart racing. He swallowed his pride, his courage. He was going to need it.

"Don't..."

"I-I love you.."

"No. Shh. Don't. Please."

"I-I c-can't hide my feelings f-forever. I'm in love with you, Aziraphale."

"Stop." Aziraphale stood up and backed up.

"I-I'm sorry.." Crowley rubbed his eyes.

Aziraphale didn't know what to do, what to say. Whatever are you supposed to say?

Crowley sniffed again, drying his tears. For some reason he was looking up and smiling. He stood.

"P-Please.. Crowley.. I-I can't.."

Crowley moved close and placed a bony hand on Aziraphale's cheek. Aziraphale's eyes dripped more tears, which ran down his cheeks.

"Crowley.. I-I.."

"You're not an abomination to me."

"Stop.."

He leaned it so their faces were closer, but not uncomfortably close. "You're my favorite person, angel."

Aziraphale slapped Crowley's hand off his face and walked briskly to the back of the couch. "No, Crowley! For the love of God, I cannot be your boyfriend! You are a man! I am a man! We cannot date!"

Crowley's tears stained his jacket.

"I-I'm sorry.. again. I just need time."

"Angel-"

"No. I'm sorry. I need time."

"Angel..."

"Goodbye, Crowley." Aziraphale slammed the flat's door closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *marge voice* kids, could you lighten up a little?


	10. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale confides in Anathema.

Anathema didn't know what happened. When her and Newton had exited the bedroom, Crowley was chugging down a bottle of vodka while seated in his armchair.

"You good?" Anathema jokingly said.

He lowered the bottle, "No."

"Okay then.. where's 'Zira?"

"Dunno. Doesn't matter anymore, anyway.." He placed the bottle on the floor next to him with a clink as he slunk down in the chair.

Anathema felt the air grow as thick as frozen butter. She suddenly remembered that she was Aziraphale's ride and she had to go find him. She hustled out of the apartment and down the elevator. Newton followed, as he didn't want to be left alone in a flat with a sad, drunken Crowley.

"Aziraphale?" Anathema called out when she stepped outside.

Aziraphale had been walking (or rather, tipsy-shuffling) for a half an hour towards his destination, which he didn't know yet. It had started to get dark and to rain just as he began his drunk waltz. It was a nasty cold rain. The kind you quickly make your way inside just after feeling the first few drops.

Anathema hailed her car and Newton slid in the passenger seat. "God, where could he have gone?" They began driving. The small university town is only home to so many back streets, she was sure she would find him sooner or later. It was times like these she wished Aziraphale wasn't so old fashioned and that he had a cell phone.

Aziraphale rested himself on a light pole and sat down back to it. What a sight he would have been. He looked like an alcoholic time traveler from the 19th century.

Anathema's car lights glazed over a hunched over blonde figure. She stomped on the breaks and rolled down the window.

"Aziraphale! Good lord, what're you doing!"

"I-I've messed up so bad, Anathema.."

"Get in! You're gonna get hypothermia!"

He stood, shakily, and almost fell about twice before he could actually get himself in the back of the little white car. "Newton, I'm gonna drop you off, then I'm gonna go to Aziraphale's, okay?"

Newton nodded quickly.

"Good." She pulled away, and three became two, and then two became none inside the car.

They hurried inside and Anathema helped Aziraphale change into some non-soaked clothes. Once they finally rested themselves on the bed, they were exhausted, but Aziraphale needed to do some explaining.

"What happened?"

Aziraphale swallowed. "Ana', I can't cope with this while I'm drunk.."

"No, you have to tell me." Anathema insisted.

"Crowley and I confessed we love each other, a-and I told him I can't date him, I really want to, though."

"Why not?"

"T-The church, they wouldn't li-"

"Aziraphale, _fuck_ the _church_. What have they spent years doing to you? Bullying you, harassing you, convincing you there's something wrong with _you_ , when they're not even better themselves! I'm sorry, but that one asshole of a pastor all those years ago turned out to be a fucking dick and an abuser!" She yelled, although when she saw Aziraphale wince she quieted down, "'Zira, the Catholic church has done nothing but berate you. I'm not saying you should give up Christianity all together. But just.. find something better."

Aziraphale stayed quiet. His sorrowful gaze moved from Anathema's eyes down to the floor, the bed sheets, literally anywhere else but where they mattered right now.

"You're right."

"Hm?"

"I-I said you're right."

Anathema blinked. Aziraphale didn't like admitting when he was wrong. She smiled.

"There ya go."

"And so was Crowley."

"What?"

"Crowley said that God can't hate people. I-I see that's true now. I-I mean.." He leaned over to grab his Bible and flipped to one of the noted pages. He read the quote out loud.

" _We love because She loved us first._ " John 4:19.

"See? Well, I don't know anything about the Bible, of course, but I'll trust that you know what that means."

"She still loves me, doesn't She?"

"Yeah!" Anathema gave a friendly nudge.

"I-I'm not an abomination anymore, am I?"

Anathema's brown-eyed gaze met Aziraphale's hazel one. There was a moment of connection between the two that was indescribable. Anathema's lips curled into a sickly sweet smile.

"You never were, Aziraphale."

He returned with a look just as sweet. The two hugged, a wonderful, big, warm friend hug. Aziraphale didn't cry, although he did sniffle a bit. When they broke, he dried what tiny, happy tears had filled his eyes.

"But I was also right. I need time."

"Mhm. Yeah that'd be good."

"Self-realization time."

"Yeah. Are you good now?"

"Yes."

"Good. It's getting late, I'm gonna go back home."

"Okay." Anathema stood and made her way to the door frame.

"Good night, 'Zira."

"Good night, Ana'."

She smiled and went downstairs. Now all Aziraphale was left with was his own self-pity.

He was going to need time. He was going to need to cancel his next appointment with his awful therapist. He was going to have to find a new church to go to, a new, protestant denomination. At some point, he was going to need to apologize to Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's a bit short today, i'll try and post more tonight or tomorrow, i've just been really stressed with school n stuff so ye!!!


	11. Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About a week after rejecting Crowley, Aziraphale decides it's time to apologize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey kids did you know i write other shit too? here's two im proud of, they're both ineffable husbands shit
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/22181371
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/22109941

The day after the unofficial break-up, Aziraphale called his therapist and cancelled their next appointment, and all appointments afterwards. Dr. Potts didn't seem phased, like he knew that Aziraphale would come crawling back at some point. However, Aziraphale knew he wouldn't. He was stronger than that.

Aziraphale also skipped his intro to psych lecture. Despite knowing that a quiz was coming up, he didn't go. Aziraphale knew Crowley would be there. At the moment, Crowley wasn't something -or rather, some _one_ \- Aziraphale needed to see right now. Also, he was feeling a bit under the weather from being under the weather.

He also didn't plan on attending his usual church that coming Sunday. Aziraphale planned on spending the time he'd normally use for church on searching for a new one. He wasn't sure if he was going to settle on a denomination quite yet, or just start interpreting the holy scriptures himself in his own way while sticking with a protestant sect.

When the weekend was over he went to his normal classes and his normal work schedule. He found himself glancing through the glass of the library to see if Crowley was working that day, across the street. He wondered if Crowley was doing the same. Every day he looked out, however, Crowley was nowhere to be seen in the shop. This caused Aziraphale to grow worried, but largely he ignored it. Crowley could just be working other shifts. He probably was. Right? Goodness, that everlasting seed of doubt rooted deep within the depths of Aziraphale's mind was starting to get annoying.

That seed of doubt didn't cause any action until a full 6 days after Crowley and Aziraphale had their little drunken fight. As Aziraphale sat down on his bed, his favorite angel wing mug clasped in the palms of his hands, filled about 3/4 of the way with cocoa, he stared off at the receiver of the old school phone. He squinted at it, focusing on every detail of it while he pondered the simple question with a complex answer. Was he ready to talk yet?

He ultimately decided yes, he was. He had too much to say to keep it hidden and quiet forever. He missed Crowley dearly. Actually, he more than missed him. He _longed_ for him. He pined after attention from the redhead. The only thing that this could be compared to was slightly burnt caramel toffee, which is just sweet enough to be considered a bearable desert but just nasty enough to be ignored on the Christmas party food table.

He set down his mug on the bedside table. Aziraphale picked up the phone and spun the dials for Crowley's cell phone.

On the other end of the line, Crowley was busy doing a project with heavy eyes. Once he flipped over his vibrating phone and read who it was, he immediately swiped to answer it. As he brought the phone to his ear he swallowed his fears and pride.

"Hello?" Aziraphale's voice was even more pretty than Crowley remembered, like a gorgeous little pink delphinium perennial.

"Hi."

Crowley could hear Aziraphale clear his throat, "Crowley.. I'm sorry."

"Huh?"

"I said I'm sorry. I'm sorry for pushing you away. I'm sorry for slapping your hand away from my face. I'm sorry for yelling at you. I-I'm even sorry for rejecting you."

Crowley's end went silent for a long time. "Why are you apologizing?"

"I-I.."

"I really should be apologizing to you." Crowley said flatly. He continued, "I was the one that tried to kiss you when you weren't ready."

Aziraphale kept quiet. It was true, but it hurt to admit. "I think we've both made some mistakes, Crowley."

"Mm..." Crowley said, tiredly.

"When can I see you?" Aziraphale asked tentatively.

Crowley looked at the time, which read 5:30 PM. "Tonight."

"Can you come over to my flat?"

"Yeah.."

"Okay.. See you here soon, then?" Aziraphale gave a tiny smile that was seen by no one but himself and his succulents.

"Yup."

"Goodbye, Crowley."

"G'bye."

_Click_. The other line ended, and Crowley was left with static and the dial tone. It didn't hit him what Crowley had just agreed to until about a minute of him processing what just happened. When he did finally understand, he shot out of his seat. " _Oh God oh God oh fuck, what did I just do? Oh God I'm a mess, I should go freshen up_." He tugged off his t-shirt and buttoned up a black shirt. He also slid into some better pants.

As he slammed into the Bentley, he took a moment to take a breather, an aspirin, and a breath mint. And as Crowley put the machine into drive he realized this was it, tonight was either going to be the start of the rest of their lives or the start of two separate lives.

He prayed for the former to happen the entire drive there.

Once he arrived outside it had reached 6. Crowley made his way into Aziraphale's tiny excuse for a yard. It looked different in darkness. But he supposed everything looked different in darkness.

He rang the doorbell. A voice from inside said to just come in, and Crowley followed instructions.

Aziraphale was standing in his kitchenette, putting away a stack of 3 plates. Crowley was overjoyed just seeing Aziraphale again.

"Hello, Crowley." He hadn't turned away until he closed the cabinet's door.

"Hey, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale motioned to follow him upstairs. Crowley did, and they both rested themselves on his bed. Aziraphale looked sadly into Crowley's eyes.

"I'm sorry."

Crowley looked like he was about to say something, so Aziraphale quickly continued. "I've been involved with the Catholic church for all my life. I felt like I was intertwined with it like a spiderweb. I felt safe and complete being a part of it." He bit his lip and looked past Crowley, and at the bed frame. "I guess the church never really treated me with the same respect that I gave it, however."

Crowley nodded. Aziraphale returned his gaze to his eyes. "I know that now. I know who I want to be and what I want to do. I've learned a lot of self-respect over the past week. I really have." He swallowed. Crowley nodded again, and looked down.

"I've also learned who I want to be with." That made Crowley's ears metaphorically prick up. He stopped slouching and looked Aziraphale in the eyes again as a hand was placed on his left shoulder.

Aziraphale took a deep breath and smiled. "I want to be with you, Crowley. I'm ready now."

Crowley blushed deeply. A deep, deep red blush. The kind of blush that can't go unnoticed. "Are you okay?" Aziraphale asked, growing worried.

He cleared his throat and nodded. "I-I.. want to be with you too." He quickly spat out.

They both smiled. Crowley experimentally moved his right hand to Aziraphale's face, where it held his new lover's cheek. Aziraphale's other hand held the one that was on his face.

"Oh, screw it.." Crowley said to himself. He leaned in and kissed Aziraphale with a smile, who reciprocated right back with the same energy.

They sat there enjoying the company of each other's lips. Actually, they just sat there and enjoyed each other's company in general. They both eventually leaned back onto the bed and began cuddling and kissing in combination, with mixtures of flirtatious giggles in between. Once they broke they just stared at each other for a while, admiring each other's features one by one, laying in each other's arms.

"I can't believe how lucky I am." Crowley muttered out.

Aziraphale smiled and scrunched up his nose. "What? I'm not that special."

"But you are. You're the most special to me." Crowley placed another kiss on his lover's cheek and forehead. Aziraphale moved down slightly so Crowley could rest his chin on top of his head. They wrapped their arms around one another and buried each other's hearts in each other's chest.

They laid there for a while, before Aziraphale piped up once it had reached 7. "Do you want to stay here for the night?"

"Oh, I don't want to be a bother."

"You could never be a bother to me, dear."

"In that case, yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i contracted meningitis and was bedridden for 3 days with a migraine  
> i wish i could say i was joking


	12. Tossed Aside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A happily ever after that they both deserve.

Aziraphale woke up the next day and got ready as per usual. It startled him when he first woke up to see Crowley so close to him. He quickly remembered, though, why Crowley was in his flat. He made tea downstairs and put it in a tartan thermos. A pattern choice Crowley would vomit at.

He left his Bible verse unread today. And that was okay.

Aziraphale returned upstairs and sat on the side of the bed Crowley wasn't occupying. He looked over his schedule today. BSL, then a world religions seminar, art history and theory, then finally an introductory philosophy course. He had no work today. Good, he thought, because he could give himself time to break the news to Anathema and spend time with Crowley. He literally couldn't wait to get home that evening and spend time with Crowley.

Was it appropriate to call him his boyfriend? The term boyfriend was something Aziraphale never really liked. He felt like it was childish. But what else was there? Lover? No, lover sounds too scandalous. Partner? Too formal. He supposed 'boyfriend' was going to have to work for now.

Anyway, he turned his head to look at his sleeping angel of a boyfriend. Crowley's arms hadn't moved position from where they were when they were cuddling. The way Crowley slept looked very fake, and that's because in this instance Crowley was just pretending to sleep. He also pretended to just now wake up. His eyelids rose and so did his pupils, which met Aziraphale's pale eyes. Crowley smiled and sat up.

"Good morning, dear." Aziraphale said, turning his attention back towards his schedule.

When Crowley fully sat up he wrapped his arms around his chest and placed a kiss on the nape of Aziraphale's neck. "Good morning, my angel." Crowley looked over Aziraphale's shoulder.

"Ah, right. It's Friday, isn't it?"

"Mhm.." Aziraphale replied.

"Do you want a lift to your..." He read the other boy's schedule, "British sign language.. thingy? It's not a problem, I have to go to my web graphics class, and your building is on the way to it."

"That'd be nice." He said.

Crowley repeated the neck kissing motion, loosened his grip, and slid out of bed. He walked into the bathroom and fixed his hair, which at this point was flat and unlike how it normally was. He turned on the sink and ran his hand under the water for a minute to try and poof up his hair. It worked, partially, although he could see at any moment it was gonna get curly. Today, though, that was okay.

He stood in the door frame of the bathroom and watched Aziraphale put his things in his bag. "What time is it?"

The blonde one looked at his alarm clock, "Half past 6." Crowley nodded.

Crowley plopped back down on the bed for two and fixed the buttons to his shirt. He dragged his hands over his pant legs to try and crisp them out just a bit. "Can I ask you something?"

Aziraphale nodded and brought the thermos to his lips.

"Why were you crying that one morning?" Aziraphale stopped and screwed the cap back on. He moved to the other side of the bed where Crowley was seated.

"I had therapy the previous evening. I had a terrible therapist. I'm not with him anymore, though. Therapy stirred up some.. terrible memories in me."

Crowley listened intently, Aziraphale stared at the floor.

"D'yo.. want to tell me what it was?"

Aziraphale cleared his throat and nodded, "when I was little. Or rather, uh, not terribly little. Maybe 12. I went to summer camp. Christian Bible summer camp. It was raining outside, so we um.. were doing readings inside. The Pastor.." Aziraphale's hand began to shake, even at the mention of the awful person. Crowley placed his own hand over Aziraphale's to steady it. "The Pastor was talking about how, well, you know.. the gays go to Hell and all of that horrible nonsense. I asked the wrong question and well.. I got kicked out, basically. Called nasty names."

Crowley waited for a few seconds to see if anything else was going to be said. Aziraphale looked like he was looking for a reaction. Crowley nodded, "that's terrible."

Aziraphale breathed in, "I know." He said quietly.

"Reminds me of a lot of my childhood, too." Aziraphale looked at him, perplexed. He raised his eyebrows.

"I was never Christian, of course. Parents never really cared for church. I don't think they ever really cared for anything." Crowley's eyes shifted across the floor and downwards. "So, anyway, whenever I looked at them funny or was bad or something they'd toss me outside, too. Like a dog. I'd be left out there until they forgot about me, then I'd sneak back inside."

Aziraphale pursed his lips and placed a hand on Crowley's shoulder. "So sorry to hear it.."

"I guess we've both been sort of.. tossed aside, huh?" Crowley gave an inappropriate smile, which quickly faded with internal cringe. He looked away again.

"No, you're right." Aziraphale said with a smile. "Tossed aside."

"Tossed aside." Crowley echoed.

"But what matters is that we're better people. Right?" The blonde smiled. The redhead nodded. "We've come out on top, despite that." Aziraphale's hand that was on Crowley's shoulder moved to the middle of his back. His other hand held Crowley's. "Look around you. Look at where you are. Look at where you started."

"I'm so lucky." Crowley admitted. Aziraphale nodded. "We're both lucky to be where we are." Aziraphale held Crowley's face again and pulled him in for a brief kiss. When they broke they kept their faces close.

"How many more years of uni do we have? 2?"

"2."

"2 more years until we can run away together." Crowley said. Aziraphale grinned and chuckled, "You're such a dreamer."

"'S what I want." Crowley assured.

"It's what I want, too."

They rested their foreheads together and sat in domestic silence for a time.

Crowley broke the silence. "Who's moving in with who?" He quietly asked.

Aziraphale snorted. "We both have tiny flats."

"Well, I'm just saying, I don't have a lot to move." Crowley shrugged and put up both hands defensively. "And your place is a lot cuter."

"Cuter? I never thought I'd hear you say the word 'cute.'" He playfully scowled.

"You're cute." Crowley teasingly kissed his forehead.

"Stop..."

"It's true."

"Well.. I always have space for more plants." Aziraphale looked into his eyes deeply. "When do you want to make the move?"

"As soon as possible," He said matter-of-factually. "My neighbors are crazy and the whole apartment is terribly dusty and lonely." Crowley explained, eyes rolling.

Aziraphale nodded. "I mean.." He stood, looking around with hands clasped in front. "There's plenty of room for your records and potted plants. I'm not sure about sharing a tiny bathroom and tiny kitchen, but we'll make it work." He turned back, smiling. Crowley stood and kissed Aziraphale's forehead.

"We'll make it work." Crowley echoed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is it, Cappuccino Readings be dOnE! Thank y'all so much for reading, and please check out my other ineffable husbands junk!! ily xxx


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